


rookvil drabbles

by butterscotchlatte



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NRC is a university not a high school, Romance, possibly eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:42:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29487711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterscotchlatte/pseuds/butterscotchlatte
Summary: Short rookvil scenarios written on my phone these past few weeks, mostly inspired by ridiculous DMs withfukamiin. Each chapter is a standalone, will likely continue to be updated!
Relationships: Rook Hunt/Vil Schoenheit
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47





	1. rsvp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/incorrecttwst/status/1304529222497689600/) that I lost my whole mind over for some reason,  
> Rook is very inefficient when 'helping' Vil dress for a night out.

"Rook..." Vil breathed, eyes slipping shut despite himself.

"We're going to be late..." 

Rook only hummed, uncaring in a way that would be infuriating were he not so talented at easing all of Vil's rational thoughts and emotions out of him with a single touch. His hands were roaming across Vil's body now, the pale expanse of his back that was left exposed by a dress Rook refused to zip up so soon, his upper arms,the tops of his thighs. His chin rested on Vil's shoulder, and Vil knew if he had the strength to open his eyes he would see an irritatingly self satisfied smirk in the ornate mirror before him.

"There's no harm in being fashionably late from time to time," Rook eventually chirped, and perhaps his words would hold some merit if their lateness really  were just occasional. Unfortunately that was not the case, as Rook had proven time and time again that he couldn't be trusted anywhere near his partner when he was preparing for an event of any sort. Of course Vil could probably secure his own jewellery, fasten his own garments if he tried, but where was the fun in that?

Much more pleasing were Rook's gentle lips beneath his ear, trailing teasing kisses down the back of his neck, silently threatening to leave visible marks in a way that quietly thrilled them both. His agile fingers expertly massaging his feet, roaming slowly up his ankles and calves before slipping on a delicate pair of heels. 

Most tantalising of all was the way he held him, arms tight around Vil's waist from behind, breath ghosting against the shell of his ear while he whispered promises of what was to come later that night, once it was time to help Vil  _out_ of his clothes.

Not for the first time, some small, base part of his brain urged him to call and rescind last minute the RSVPs he'd sent diligently two weeks prior. He knew that doing so for no reason at all would be unforgivably rude, but if he were to fall ill... Well, that would be a different story, wouldn't it?  
Who was Vil to argue when Rook's hand suddenly came to rest on his forehead, murmuring with _terrible concern_ that it felt rather feverish?  
  
  



	2. vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something silly and super short, simply inspired by a convo about vampire roleplay!

Each flash of lightning acted as a brief reprieve from the absolute blackness of the halls, and Vil could only pray that the storm wouldn't cease. They allowed him to plan his next move, fleeting intervals of white light promising a few more steps that could be taken safely, a few more metres he could put between himself and his pursuer. His heart was pounding, seeming almost to drown out the sound of thunder and relentless rain against high, arched windows, and racing out of pure _terror_ even more so than out of overexertion. As his lungs burned and he feared his legs would give out beneath him, he became acutely aware of the presence behind him drawing ever closer. Cold dread seized his entire body when he finally realised - no matter how hard he pushed himself, the monster would close in.

It was inevitable. 

He couldn't escape. 

Tears threatened to spill from lavender eyes stretched wide with fear as he finally fell. He knew that there was nothing left for him but surrender, and yet as he braced himself for the painful feeling of cold marble against his knees, nothing came at all. Instead he felt a terrible warmth, the unnatural heat of what was surely a demon wrapped around him, and somehow it was even more bitter than the embrace of the icy ground. He was trapped, in the arms of what he now knew to be the most vile creature of all - a vampire.   
Vil let his eyelids fall shut. He couldn't be saved now, all he could do was tremble helplessly in the grip of his captor, waiting to succumb to darkness. The final words he heard before he died, spoken in that twisted, cruel voice - 

"I got you, _mon amour_!"

Vil cracked open an eye to glare up at Rook's smiling face in what he hoped translated as annoyance.

"Don't break character, please."


	3. if you leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Rook's voice line telling you to be prepared if you ever try to run from him or whatever he says, some creepy nonsense like that

"What would you do if I were to ever leave you?" Vil barely whispered, voice soft and contemplative. He was wrapped in Rook's embrace, the comfort of the warm, solid pressure against his back threatening to lull him to sleep at any moment.  
"Oh _mon amour_ , you know you have no hope of escaping," came Rook's lyrical reply. His tone was playful, but Vil swore he felt his arms tighten around his waist as he spoke, as if in warning.  
  
"If you ever did, I would simply hunt you down and drag you back home to me," He followed the statement with a tender kiss to the tip of Vil's ear. Vil remained silent save for his slow, measured breathing, and the steady beat of his precious heart. At least, Rook felt as though he could hear it in the silence of the dark room, but perhaps it was his imagination.  
Without a response, he continued to speak; "The truth is, _mon bijou_ , if you ever find that you no longer require me you need only say the word."  
He too was speaking quietly now, tone now devoid of humour, his sincerity perfectly clear.  
"I will disappear forever. Of course it would kill me, of course it would mean the end of my life, but I would if you wished me to."  
  
After a moment, Vil spoke up again,  
"Really? I would prefer to be hunted."  
Rook blinked. "Oh?"  
"It would be a terrible mistake for us to part. I should hope you would find me and bring me to my senses."  
Rook heard rather than saw his smirk as he spoke.  
Ah, so that was it - Vil had only asked as a test of Rook's devotion. Not because he wanted to leave, but because he wanted to be certain that Rook would not survive if he did. Typical, really... _quel soulagement_.


	4. st valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very silly fic created on valentine's day out of this weirdly adorable poem ami got from some automatic poetry generator thing:
> 
> _The lips is lush, red and deep,  
>  But he has promises to keep,  
> After cake and lots of sleep,  
> Sweet dreams come to him cheap_
> 
> _He rises from his gentle bed,  
>  With thoughts of kittens in his head,  
> He eats his jam with lots of bread,  
> Ready for the day ahead ___

Vil rolled over contentedly, beaming down at the tiny, cream coloured kitten licking insistently at his shoulder.  
"Whatever do you want?" his adorable pet was relentless, purring and nuzzling at him with such fervour he couldn't help but laugh.

Albeit unwilling for the joyful dream to end, it was with a gentle smile on his face and Rook's lips against his neck that he slowly blinked awake.  _Ah, so there was his mischievous 'kitten'_.  
"Rook...?"  
"Oh, good morning _mon ange_!" Rook responded brightly, far too energetic for such an early hour. A moment later, he was back to peppering his lover's throat with tender kisses, and if Vil  wanted to be irritated, he knew he simply didn't have the strength.

"Were you kissing me in my sleep?" his soft, tired voice lacked any bite whatsoever, and in fact more closely resembled a lovestruck sort of sigh. Embarrassing.  
"Oui, forgive me for waking you, but I didn't want your toast to grow cold!"  
Vil blinked, wracking his sluggish, half asleep brain as to why toast should suddenly be present in their bedroom. Rook broke the silence with a lyrical chuckle, sensing that Vil was confused.

"Happy Valentine's Day, _mon amour_."  
_ Valentine's Day _ ? So it was. Craning his neck, Vil sure enough found an ornate silver tray upon his bedside table piled high with dark, seeded bread and a selection of delicate jars of jam and marmalade. Next to the breakfast was a rich magenta coloured smoothie and a single red rose standing elegantly in a tall glass vase.  


He had to admit that it was an appealing display, but his thoughts quickly turned to the chiffon cake he'd indulged in for dessert not twelve hours ago.  
_Surely, so many carbohydrates..._  
As if reading his mind for the second time that morning, Rook rushed to assuage Vil's concerns.

"I know you wouldn't ordinarily eat quite so much in the mornings," he cooed, one hand running soothingly along his waist, "But it's a special occasion, wouldn't you say? Besides, you have a promise to keep!"

Vil internally groaned; yes, he did. In a moment of weakness earlier that month he had sworn to Rook that he would let himself be pampered in whatever way his hunter saw fit come Valentine's Day, be it with food, gifts or anything else Rook desired. Vitally, he wasn't to complain about work or diets or any other such mundane matters.  Never again would he let Rook bring these things up directly after sex, when he had a tendency to be far too agreeable.

"Right, so I do." he murmured, defeated. If nothing else, he was a man of his word.  
Rook's eyes lit up as though he had just won a lottery, and in his strange way perhaps he felt as though he had. Vil couldn't keep the corner of his lips from twitching when that thought occurred to him; at least one of them was bound to have a fantastic day. And if Vil was looking forward to it too... well, no one needed to know.  
  
"Would you allow me to feed you, cheri?" Rook asked, practically humming with excitement, and Vil didn't bother responding - the knife and fork were in Rook's hands before he could get a word out regardless. A kiss was pressed to Vil's deep red lips, and shortly after, a mouthful of toast and strawberry jam. He supposed this could be considered an acceptable start to his day.


	5. lilac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok this one is truly mindless silliness I'm sorry: 
> 
> random soulmate au idea by ami - the ends of your hair change colour once you meet and get to know your soulmate. Rook's hair starts to go vil style purple ombré and he keeps frantically cutting it so vil doesn't find out and hate him 😭🥺 (pls just assume ppl instinctively know the colour that matches them, I didn't exactly flesh out this universe in detail lmao)

"Again, Rook?" 

Vil was, in a word, irate. He tapped the toe of his heeled boots with an ominous  _ clack  _ against the marble floor irritably, arms crossed and awaiting an explanation.

"This is the third time you've cut your hair in as many weeks, I chose that style for you for a reason, you know. You're going to ruin it, it's far too short already!"

Some part of him knew he was perhaps being unfair, possessive, controlling. Rook could - he supposed, grudgingly - do what he liked with his own appearance, but this was Vil's dorm, Vil's vice leader and  _ Vil's _ public image on the line. He would admit that the barely chin length French bob Rook currently sported suited him rather well, but to cut it any shorter would be simply excessive and unnecessary. He didn't understand what had come over the man lately.

Rook only laughed brightly in response. To anyone else he may have seemed his usual cheery self, unbothered by the interrogation, but knowing him as well as he did Vil could plainly see the nervousness seeping into a carefully composed facade. For whatever reason, it seemed, he didn't want to be scrutinised on this.

"What is life without spontaneity, my beautiful Vil?" The words were grating, spoken in a tone of forced nonchalance, and Vil had very quickly grown tired of the shallow conversation.

He moved to close the distance between them - hoping against hope that some proximity might intimidate him into truthfulness - but stopped dead once they were inches apart upon witnessing something he never dreamed he would.

Rook actually  _ recoiled  _ from him.

Rook,  _ le chasseur d'amour _ , the man usually so frightfully comfortable with invading the personal space of others, truly flinched and stumbled a step backwards upon coming face to face with his own dorm leader. Vil was almost scared by how uncharacteristic his behaviour was becoming.

"Rook.." he spoke as sternly as he could, now glaring into once familiar green eyes that were suddenly unrecognisable in their open terror. He meant to ask him once and for all what the purpose of these rapid appearance changes were, but the words froze in his throat when he saw it.

Lilac, the slightest glimpse of pale purple catching the light on a strand of Rook's cropped hair. Vil blinked as though to clear his vision, ensuring his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and sure enough when he looked again the surprising discovery remained. Lilac.  
Scanning the blond tresses in earnest now, he spotted more and more, tiny streaks of purple bleeding stubbornly from the very tips of Rook's hair faster than they could be cut.

Vil's eyes grew wide as Rook squeezed his shut, clearly aware that his time had run out.

All he could do was stand still and silent, breath held as though he were waiting for danger to pass in the wilderness, as though Vil were an approaching tiger who could be fooled into letting him live if he refrained from any sudden movements. If only he were so lucky.

They were both quiet for a few agonising moments before Vil finally responded, unexpectedly calm.

"Is  _ that _ why?"

Rook hesitantly cracked open an eye, resigned to the reality that Vil knew, and that he would now have to explain himself as best he could.

"Y-yes," he stammered out, "but please, just pretend you never saw it. I would never force you into anything, Vil, if you want me to leave Pomefiore I understand-"

Vil had heard enough, and struggled not to roll his eyes before leaning in to silence Rook's pointless babbling with a long awaited kiss.  _ Finally. _


	6. le chasseur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, imagine the absolute disbelief u would experience encountering someone like rook hunt on a dating app

Vil couldn't stop himself from laughing, actually _laughing_ aloud when he saw the man's profile. A bright, sharp sound that he quickly stifled with a hand, simply an instinctive reaction to the sheer absurdity of what lay before him.

_Le Chasseur_ , 26

A pseudonym, of course, but an absolutely ridiculous one. A comically dramatic alias that instantly revealed how much self awareness he had, which was to say none at all. Glancing at the photograph included Vil had to admit that the man was attractive, beautiful even,  _stunning_ , but also that the way he presented himself was unquestionably odd.

As was to be expected, he had chosen to lead with an image of himself in a state of semi undress. Leaning against a sparse dressing table, his bare, immaculately muscled torso was perfectly visible and undoubtedly impressive in the mirror's image, but  _ Le Chasseur _ hinted again at his probable inability to acknowledge social mores through his choice of facial expression.

Far from the soft smirk or glare Vil had come to anticipate after days of fruitless scrolling, the ridiculous man was beaming from ear to ear. Vil actually caught himself smiling too as he looked, so infectious was the bizarre, unbridled joy on that strangely handsome face.

It was completely incongruous with the rest of the image, and the way the man was clearly making an attempt at seduction by posing in only a pair of tight black trousers and... gloves? Upon closer inspection, he was indeed holding his brightly coloured phone case in a dark leather glove. Unusually, it was cropped at the palm, just an inch or two shy of his wrist.

" _What the hell? _ " Vil murmured under his breath, trying not to laugh again, having far too much fun dissecting the profile as he pinched the image between his thumb and index finger to take a closer look. The man was wearing makeup too, Vil's practiced eye picking out with ease the several elements he'd applied - mascara, eyeliner, even eyeshadow for heaven knew what reason. His eyes were squeezed shut in his apparent glee -  _ why was he so overjoyed to be taking a selfie _ \- and it emphasised the way dark eyelashes fanned attractively against his fair skin.

Perhaps most baffling of all was the lunatic's hairstyle; something so breathtakingly out of the ordinary that Vil couldn't help but admire it in some way. A bob. An artfully choppy, blond, chin length bob of the sort one only saw on a man perhaps once or twice in an entire lifetime, never mind on a man with such an otherwise surprisingly chiselled and masculine physique as this. Vil was massaging at his temple in amused exasperation, barely able to take it all in and he hadn't even begun to read the ludicrously long biography included beneath the portrait.

' _Bonjour!_ '  It began cheerily, and god, he was sensing a theme here.

' _Could you be my one true love? The beauty so enduringly captivating that my fickle heart forsakes all others?_ '

Insane, he was absolutely insane. Vil's eyes skimmed over another wall of text, settling on a paragraph near the end of the page:

' _I enjoy visiting art galleries, fine dining and writing poetry, but as my title suggests there is nothing I love more than a hunt! You'd best be prepared for a chase if you choose to take a chance on my love, for once I've set my sights on something beautiful I won't let it slip through my grasp easily! Bonne chance ;~)_ '

Vil had seen enough. Before he could change his mind he closed his eyes and swiped the screen with a flourish to accept the man's match request. It was something quite momentous - the very first time he'd accepted anyone at all from the seemingly endless stream of willing suitors the app had presented him.  


Lavender eyes flew open again in an instant at the chime of a notification; within literal seconds he had received a message from the enigmatic 'hunter'. Vil allowed himself to laugh openly once more. Whatever was about to happen, he was certain it wouldn't bore him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes they definitely fall in love after this hahaha 😭😭😭😭


	7. room service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just vil struggling to adjust to being on his honeymoon and not having a schedule 🥺

Rook set his teacup on its saucer with a quiet _clink_ and placed it on the hotel's bedside table once he heard the first gentle stirrings of Vil waking up. He simply watched with a contented smile as his husband stretched his legs elegantly, a faint moan falling from his lips. He was practically glowing in the morning sun, and between the way one thin strap of his delicate pyjamas hung off his shoulder and the luxurious white sheets tangled between bare, willowy limbs, he reminded Rook of a Renaissance painting. No matter how many times they woke up together, for as long as he lived, he would never tire of this sight. He was sure of it.

"Good morning,  _ mon amour_,"

Vil blinked up at him with a smile, looking like an  _ angel_, like the princess from the famous tale, who awoke in her glass coffin as beautiful as ever upon being kissed. Rook leaned down to do just that, pressing barely there kisses to Vil's forehead, cheeks, nose, anywhere he could reach until Vil laughed airily and pushed him away so that he could sit up.

"What time is it?" he asked then, voice warm and scratchy from sleep in a way that only made him sound more alluring still.  
Rook hesitated.  
"It's... nine forty one," he admitted after a moment, immediately holding out a pre-emptive hand to still Vil before he had a chance to throw off his covers and stand.

"Nine forty one?" he parroted back, eyes wide and seeming suddenly quite alert. His panic felt painfully out of place when considering how beautifully serene he had looked only moments prior.

"I have so much to do, I've already missed my chance to have breakfast, I'll have to cut down my workou- _ Rook _ ! Let go of me!"

Rook had disrupted Vil's frantic monologue by wrapping his arms around him firmly, pulling him back against his chest. Vil thrashed weakly in his arms mostly for show, still barely awake and knowing that he couldn't overpower Rook if he genuinely meant to keep him there, which it seemed as if he did.  
"Shhhh..." Rook hushed directly into his ear, continuing almost in a whisper,  
"This is a holiday, remember?"

"Yes, but..." Vil immediately countered, though his voice trailed off into quiet, unconvincing noises of annoyance as Rook slid both his hands beneath his thin chemise and began to stroke lightly at his nipples. Vil gave in very quickly after that, head lolling back to rest on Rook's shoulder and breathy, pleasured sighs replacing his protests almost instantly. If you were to ask  _ him _ he would deny it to his dying day, but Vil could be rather easily distracted.

"Shall I stop?" Rook hummed, one hand still playing teasingly across his chest as the other traced feather light patterns down his ribs in a way that he knew always made Vil weak.  
"Aren't there more important things you should be doing?" he asked again, and pressed a long, open mouthed kiss to the side of Vil's neck.  
"Shut up," Vil huffed, unquestionably defeated, and Rook could hear the smile in his voice.

" _Trés bien_!" He grinned brightly, leaving another firm kiss on Vil's cheek and receiving a soft laugh in response.  
"Well then, I'll order our room service, shall I?" He didn't give Vil a chance to answer - or rather, argue - before running both hands down his body to rest on slightly spread thighs, ever so gently coaxing them further apart.  
"And while we wait, where would you like me to begin?"

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/maple_Iatte/)  
> thank you for reading, as always comments and kudos make my day 💖


End file.
